


Invisible Dangers.

by TheDarkestMindWithin



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, Established Relationship, F/M, One Shot, Parents Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestMindWithin/pseuds/TheDarkestMindWithin
Summary: The air is thicker today. Heavier, hotter, weighs my flesh down and encases me with sweat and fatigue. It's the start of summer.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Kudos: 13





	Invisible Dangers.

**Author's Note:**

> Without Beta.

The air is thicker today. Heavier, _hotter,_ weighs my flesh down and encases me with sweat and fatigue. It's the start of summer.

This weather contrasts to what we've had over the past few weeks. Nonstop thundering rain and wind. Transition. I hate the feeling of the changing air, the clouds moving swiftly through the sky. Too temperamental.

The bright sky feels just as bad as the thundering, the atmosphere is too still. Puts me on edge. I know the kids sense it too, see me hovering and moving like a restless animal, like one of the cats when they're close to labour. I can't adjust, not yet, not while _he's_ not here with _us._

Abel and Sasha compensate for my mood by being extra needy, if he were here he'd make sure to reprimand me and them for their behaviour, but he's not and that's part of the problem. Part of why I let Sasha and Abel get away with more.

He was meant to be back a week ago, back with supplies and an update but there's been no word. _Word,_ like he could just send a text, like we _used_ to be able to do, I'm being childish, foolish. He'd say so himself if he were back but he's not and if he knew why I was he wouldn't be so dismissive.

The trees and the birds are too loud today for them to play outside, the wind hasn't slowed down enough either, even if the rain has, and the sun only encourages the birds high up in the trees to chirp louder, _defiant music_. It's a dangerous day.

Camille doesn't say anything about not being allowed out, she's old enough to know when not to kick up a fuss, instead she's resigned herself to the library, reading with a sulky pout and furrowed brows, she's annoyed we didn't tell her where he was going, she's hurt that she wasn't allowed to go with him. Thinks that she's old enough to go with him everywhere now. She's angrier knowing that James and Hunter knew where he was going.

She's not old enough yet, despite what she may think, and it's not a safe enough trip for her to have joined him on, she doesn't believe me when I tell her this. Thinks I'm just babying her, I wish it were that, that I was having trouble letting her grow, I wish I could afford to not let her grow up.

She's convinced that I see Hunter and James differently but ignores me when I point out that they weren't allowed to go either. She just wants to fight someone, I'm the closest so I'm the one who gets the push-back. I deal with it because she doesn't mean it, she's just scared. Growing pains. Struggling to fit into the word that doesn't fit anyone anymore.

Today's harder with everyone cooped up inside. The low thrum of pent up energy that threatens to spill up over the sides pushed along with the heat of the day. I make sure everyone's doing something, keep them busy. Occupied.

James looks after Sasha and Abel, Hunter does his chores and Camille reads, _I pack_.

I know I'm being too anxious, not thinking everything through clearly but he's been gone too long and I can't keep giving him days. Rope around his neck, I think darkly as I pick up my gun, I haven't picked it up in months, there's been no need to but having no need for something isn't a good enough excuse for falling out of practice, especially in a world like ours.

I clean it, meticulous, make sure that every piece works to perfection before slipping it into my holster around my waist.

I know James knows how to look after the twins and Hunter and Camille know how to keep things running for a few days without me. I know they'll be fine without me for a few days, it'll _only_ be a few days. I'm being ridiculous.

I'm rationalising, making the unreasonable reasonable -

The loud roar of an engine works through the house. Loud and obnoxious, uncaring of the surrounding dangers lurking in the shadows. It's hard to keep them in mind when it's a day like this. The roar only invites these invisible dangers closer.

It's unlike him but there's familiarity, recognition in the engine, the way it gets cut off, that I can't deny knowing it's _him._

I'm moving in a second, James and Camille already grabbing Sasha and Abel, just in case, Hunter already grabbing the crossbow he was left, _left by him_. Just in case, he'd said with his usual warm affection. A hand running through Hunter's hair, a grin on Hunter's face.

I have my gun in hand, _just in case_ , as I approach the door. Their eyes on me as I move on feather light feet across the room, my heart pounds already and I feel the pump of adrenaline. Familiar. There are noises and footsteps and voices outside, approaching, I can't make out any I recognise, I can't tell if it's because of the pounding sound of my heart in my eardrums or if it's because I don't know anyone on the other side of the door.

My hand wraps around the cold metal of the door handle, it's unlocked, I'll come back to that later. I'll reprimand whoever left it unlocked later, if there's a later, I twist and pull and my gun is up. Cocked. Ready.

Cocked and read in his face. He's staring down the barrel. Everything's frozen. There's relief, anger, sadness, happiness, nervousness, too many emotions that pump through me and flood my brain. I pull the gun away, dismantle it. I throw my arms around him as the parts of my gun clatter to the floor at our feet. Breathless, tears fall as his arms wrap around my body, tight and secure. I relish in the safety they provide.

"Never do it again!" I plead into his ear, he laughs but there's no humour, we're brought back by the clearing of someone's throat and someone's crying, I pull back. I see now why he's been gone so long, why the lack of care for the truck. I understand and my stomach drops all over again at the sight.

The smell of blood lingers in the air, I back out of the way.

Watching as they bring him in the house on a makeshift stretcher.

"Table." I say already backing up and shoving the contents on the table to the wood floor. I'm no longer thinking of myself now as I watched him helping carry the bloody body in through the house, reassured the he, himself, is safe and sound.


End file.
